


Of Timeworn and Relapses

by Sinalikhatin



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Rewind Time Powers (Life is Strange), Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Death, Different Rewind Powers (Life Is Strange), Drugs, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, Existential Remorse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Drugs, Rewind Powers (Life Is Strange), Time Loop, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26695579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinalikhatin/pseuds/Sinalikhatin
Summary: She's a doe-eyed spectator of life and its' struggles;and now, she was just a childhood friend of a punk girl with blue hair.She's a scholar of a prestigious school and her favorite subject;and now, she was just a student finding her voice and identity.She's a burdened victim of circumstances and cruel fate;and now,she was just a survivor of timeworn and relapses.Max reminisces parts of her life during a Vortex Club Party.
Kudos: 4





	Of Timeworn and Relapses

**Author's Note:**

> Buckle up because I present to you:
> 
> A slightly long half-ass experimental attempt at exploring Max's thought process towards her decisions and actions because I was bored and lapsed into a LiS Fever after playing the game again back in summer (yes, I wrote this around April or May and just posting it now lol).
> 
> May you or may not enjoy it.

Step number whatevathefuck of Max Caulfield's guide to an attempt of living a normal life again-- a constant failing effort.

The loud throbbing bass, people cheering, dancing, the smell of spilled beer, cigarette smoke, and weed all at once made Caulfield nauseous. Her friends were here, at least. Max only came for Kate insisting her to unwind for a while. Dana suggested it first and was eventually seconded by Juliet. Rachel, on the other hand, thought it was a bad idea, and that input of the actress alone voiced what Max was thinking:

She was certain she didn't want to go.

She'd rather sleep in her dorm and just disappear. Of course, she didn't mention the latter. Though, her consciousness begged the question if whether what led her to this situation was intentional for her fogged mind to decide on a pathetic attempt to get better. Kate knew she had been depending on drug use ever since the death of her best friend, or to her own Max Caulfield authentic version:

A whole countless cycle of a traumatic week that technically didn't exist for anyone else.

The illusions and ghosts of memories of the past that never happened haunted her whole being, it was paralyzing; it was  
destroying her. On top of all that was Chloe, her beloved best friend:

the whole reason she did hundreds of attempts to save her while saving everyone else.

Her only reason for going through the eventual loop of nightmares, her hope and light at the end of the tunnel that she finally has caught up with, just dying in a car accident again, a predicament she'd seen many times from the previous timelines.

Though Max was frustrated.

That particular timeline lasted longer enough than she experienced from the different realities she'd lived in.

_Three hundredth- no, five hundredth six, wait,_ Her mind rattled, _it was thrice a dozen back below a hundred, around timeline number fifty-six, a little below timeline number twenty._

And a several dozen pools of blood she had to stomach after.

She feels herself gag at the flashbacks.

_How is this fucking any different?_

_Where did I go wrong?_

Max's head ached from trying to remember every car accident before this timeline, filtering through the other less fortunate and gruesome predicaments, she raised her hand to massage her temple.

_Fuck, the very last timeline that took a month was the worst car accident timeline,_ the alternative she thought she finally got ahold of, _around timeline number thirteen, one of the earliest..._ her eyebrows furrowed. The brunette made sure she'd taken intense notes on how to not come and face that same horrid result again. It sickened her to watch Nathan dying slowly in front of her because of the overdose Jefferson drugged him with. All the while with the memory of seeing Victoria laying at the darkroom with Jefferson looming over her small, terrified frame, hearing the poor girl beg of mercy.

That and she couldn't save Kate earlier than the usual- she jumped in front of a bus before Max could stop her and watched her body get crushed under the vehicle, blood splattering on her face.

Max's breath hitched.

_It took a damn month back at timeline number thirteen._ Her teeth gritted, _it was a fucking month before being victimized by Jefferson with Victoria and Nathan._

Her eyes shut close in disbelief, she felt betrayed by her own actions.

_But timeline nine, I almost figured the formula that timeline, it was also a car accident and-_ Max thought back hard, and quickly shook off the memory. _I got drugged earlier than the usual, fucking moron. 'Almost figured it' yeah, right._

She takes a long sip from her wine, blinking back the images of Jefferson taking advantage of her from timeline thirteen.

_What I almost perfected was timeline four twenty hundred- it took a damn while, with all the nitpicked most safe and reasonable details and decisions- but Chloe got overdosed by the drug she was taking, how fucking convenient._

So, what did she missed in this timeline?

Timeline number seven hundred seventy-seven.

_Is this supposed to be an insult?_ Max scrunched her nose. _What a divine intervention._

And out of all the time passed back from the previous timelines, why did this particular reality finally decided to take away her rewind powers?

She kept thinking back and comparing of what she could've possibly forgotten and overlooked.

But her thoughts got tangled in a mess as she repeatedly mistook the events from other realities, remembering moments and memories she had with individual persons from separate timelines but parallel to similar, various situations with a different set of particular people in another; mixing up details, names, places, decisions and words she had chosen to say to every being she interacted with every time before Chloe dies.

Losing it- just losing the ability to comprehend and distinguish the timelines from its apparent subtleties in the process broke her.

She thought she had every reality and outcomes engraved and burned at the back of her mind, almost seeing the list of nuances written on her palms as a result of such routines and its maddening repetition.

It devastated her to the point she thought of ending it, permanently.

She scolded herself amidst the many attempts in which she saw herself reach the point where she saw versions of Kate stand on a ledge. Max thought of the dirty blonde she managed to either help and save, or have helplessly watched in standby; to let her die in guilt remorse or idle ignorance from various timelines. Though those instances, the exact moments in which she saw the asphalt that she has gotten familiar of due to constantly looking down from above so many times, she thought of it as brutally ironic, mortifying, for her in this reality she chose to stay in- or had no choice at all to live in existential remorse.

But, she managed to turn around instead and weakly climb down at every attempt, recently leaning against the concrete as her back slid slowly down to lay her head on the ledge.

The brunette felt awful of the action.

It was disgraceful.

_You're fucking disappointing._ she thought to herself as she closed her eyes, tuning out the party.

Max thought if seeing the sweet girl become appalled when she confided on her about her addiction was worth it if it was worth the many instances of hesitance and cowardice she felt looking down below the ledge. But deep inside of her believed it was comforting to see genuine concern again after three months, the first time being was of Chloe's passing. And as much as she appreciated Kate's support and concern, she couldn't stop it as it eventually became her way of coping- _what a fucking excuse,_ She groaned to herself, for all that's worthy of a big fucking clap of disbelief towards her hypocrisy that she gave herself after she went back to her room that day.

Of course, the brunette knows it was destructive.

Rachel had done a pretty good job on pointing it out to her, in calling her out every once in awhile they hung out in each other's dorm rooms.

"I've been so worried about you lately."

Max repeated Rachel's words in her head.

She almost has forgotten that other than Kate, Rachel was already there for her, the instant after the moment of Chloe's death. The blue-haired punk was their best friend anyway, and they only had each other during the depressing aftermath. "Oh, yeah." Caulfield lets out a weak chuckle. _Even before, she was the first one to notice_ _it._ The brunette smiled at the memory.

_She and her Chloe were at her dorm, hanging out and Price invited the theatre actress over._

_They then soon made the preparation for a session and she was the first one to hit the blunt right off the bat after rolling it expertly, using the knowledge she learned from the punk girl._ _Chloe gave a low whistle at this, surprised from the finesse of the roll._ _"Practicing, are we nerd?"_ _Price just finished rolling hers, soon hollering loudly as she watched Caulfield smoke the second, and the third, then the fourth time._

_"Time's not a charm anymore." The brunette murmurs, hastily tapping her joint by her middle finger as it's butt rested between her fore and thumb._

_She gave herself a quick moment to inhale sweet oxygen before taking a long drag for the fifth._ _"Damn, Max, take it the fuck easy," Chloe was beyond impressed._

_And Rachel thought, had assumed but then figured otherwise, connecting the dots._

_She shot the girl a look as Amber concluded, watching her expression._ _Chloe was surprised as she also pieced it all together, realizing that her childhood best friend, the timid and always so reserved hipster nerd, was indeed, now a certified stoner._ _And Price didn't know what to feel about this, she was proud but appalled at the same time. Max noticed this, but only shrugged it off with a 'so what?' as she took another hit of the joint._

Remembering the memory, Max knew, from an occasional user, it dawned her soon enough how it only worsened her state since Chloe's death.

So worse that she made the effort to indirectly ask Kate, her second closest friend, for help when she confided at her. And what the girl suggested were recreational activities.

Max called bullshit, _Chloe would've probably thought- or have said the same sentiment,_ but she kept it to herself.

It was the same reason she used to convince herself of ever becoming involved with drugs in the first place.

_And what a shitty way to stumble upon my pathetic excuse of a coping mechanism._

Max had mindlessly found a way to somehow repress the night terrors and her visions. She had woken up from again in the middle of the night, sweating profusely, and heart dangerously pounding, threatening to come out of her chest as her head throbbed horribly. She found herself soon enough scrolling on the internet through her phone on how to treat the PTSD she was suffering from; her thumb hovering over the link that led to an article to how medicinal marijuana could somehow help her cope. Curious and in way out her mind she read it, soon enough being convinced out of desperation and actively searching of where she could resource the goods from.

The god damn decision always flashes through her mind every time Kate saw and suggested every opportunity she could get ahold of that would help Max. This tightened her chest from guilt, due to the fact that she was still using drugs to keep her grounded.

And knowing she had fallen way into deep into this rabbit hole doesn't help.

The fact the church girl even got Rachel involved with the plan made her stomach churn. Seeing Rachel so ecstatic, even planning a whole weekend itinerary on a spa day only worsened her guilt. And that definitely had taken aback the brunette, but damn that was one of the best weekends of her life, excluding the hallucinations of the water turning into blood one instance but Rachel kept her in check. And after, she even bothered trying out yoga, though she lost it the second she tried a few positions, not because she hated it (but she really did though.) but because of the occasional flashbacks of bodies that held familiar faces, either drugged, shot or dead in a pool of blood half an hour into sessions.

Rachel laughed at this after the confession, filtering out the horrifying images of course.

Max had to force a smile, Rachel didn't know of her visions anyway. She had no right to be rude from this reaction that really, honestly stung her.

But Caulfield knew the girl was trying to lighten up the mood, because as soon as her hearty laughter faded, Amber slung her arm around hers so she can invite her to a stroll around the beach while eating ice cream.

_That was a nice alternative instead, Rachel really tries though, and I appreciate that from her._ Max figured.

But still, lo behold, she was whispering insufferable amounts of curses to herself now that she had ended up at a Vortex Club party instead.

How she wished she could've been patient with yoga, but that took a lot of out of her, minutes in she just found herself covering her face, before rocking back and forth, to calm herself from the intrusive memories that didn't exist. She wouldn't hear the end of it from Rachel soon enough though, the teases she would hear of choosing to sacrifice yoga to end up at this party.

The dirty blonde was right at one thing:

She could've also saved herself a terrible headache if she managed to do so.

But Max soon reasoned with herself that an annoying head-throbbing distraction like the Vortex Club party is much more tolerable than a night alone and lost in her own nightmarish prison. Weighing the option of having to deal with herself alone in her room, and also not being able to sleep because of the nightmares, the brunette gave up. When Marsh couldn't help herself to avoid convincing the brunette to go:

_Rachel locks eyes with Max's blue ones, a knowing smile appears on Amber's lips as Kate continued, "It would really be just great for you to just let go for just a while,"_

She remembered her words, and that was the third time the sweet girl attempted to make Max reconsider.

_"-and with all the friends that support you! We'll be there to accompany you."_

She also remembered herself looking over at Amber's direction for the second time, her eyes pleading of an escape.

_The dirty blonde only shrugged her shoulders, "Well, it's a fucking party. And there's no way in hell that I'm gonna pass this up like the others."_

She furrows her brows as she thought back, a ghost of a smirk on her lips, reminiscing the event.

_Rachel stops before leaning over to look at her, "but I think it's not for you, Max. It'll only fuck you up," She then glances at Kate with an apologetic smile, "sorry sweetie, it's just my sentiment." Marsh shook her head softly, a smile on her lips. "No, I respect your opinion. And I also understand where you're coming from, it might be a little too much for Max too, now that I think about it-"_

Max lets outs an exasperated sigh as she remembered her response,

_"I'll think about it, but I really appreciate the help, Kate, I'm just really not up for a loud crowd at the moment."_

How hypocritical of her now though, Max was already regretting it, but she mentally kicked herself that this is more tolerable.

_This is way less shitty._

Despite her efforts to brush away the uneasiness escalating in her heart, she can't deny that it reminded her too much of a fuck up she is. Her heart clenched tightly, knowing she only became more of a disgrace by attending a party of a club led by the murderer of her best friend in another timeline, and from few more dozen.

Some instances where she herself got shot, at the leg, at the thigh, or at the shoulder- repositioning herself every rewound for every wrong mistake of not being to dodge or convince Nathan to calm down and lower his gun.

As she made the decision of taking the hit for Chloe instead, she knew she had to brace herself from the immense pain and trauma she had to carry forever, and that one timeline when the bullet shot through her palm. _That definitely earned a spot from my top five of dumbest decisions._ Max shivered at the thought if it was her left hand that she used for rewinding back that got shot. It made her throat tighten.

She cursed herself as she felt the ghost of the pain on her body from every bullet. Shaking her head as she felt hot tears begging to slip from her eyelids, Max gulped as she remembered the timeline where she got shot at the stomach.

_Now, that was fucking scary._

It terrified her. She didn't know if she could rewound back, she was becoming desperate at that point, so helplessly desperate she tried to pull Nathan away from Chloe and dealt one of the most painful experiences she had physically. And that moment literally pulled her out of her consciousness, realizing the worst that could have been was that the gun was carelessly aimed towards her left chest, where her heart was beating.

Max literally risked her life at that reality, it scared the shit out of her.

Being able to rewound back earlier that day in that timeline made her sob uncontrollably during the lecture in her photography class. And she had startled everyone. She was sent to the infirmary to be tended to but instead had rewinded back as soon as she cried enough, getting her shit together and vowing to not repeat that decision again, she could've died completely.

_One of the fucking terrible things I've done._ She couldn't afford it, if she did, all of it was fucking pointless. Then all of her attempts were futile, the thought frustrated her tentatively for a few cycles. It disturbed her to the point she had wasted almost two different weeks of productivity to achieve a better alternate result, it distracted her.

It affected her judgment.

It made her irrational.

And that's not what she needed.

Caulfield deemed it as a last resort by then, but it was a knowledge she had avoided and had used instead as a reason to push forward and do better. She used it to her advantage, an everyday reminder hanging over her head that she shouldn't fuck up every chance and opportunity she's getting, she always has thought since then that every rewound was of her last.

But even though she thought of it as the end, she still found herself raising her hand due to habit to go back, and it worked every time- before this reality.

It was silly of her, that she finds herself attempting to go back. Max raised her hand randomly sometimes in days in her room, scraping at pockets of air- but it didn't just work anymore. She remembered a time where she unknowingly raised her hand in front of Rachel as they were talking, the confused girl in turn giving her a high five instead. Max laughed at the memory. _What a fucking mess you are._ She felt saddened as the habit just became a part of her, of her being.

Amber was nice enough to playfully joke about it, not prying much more to her strange habit. And it was a good thing, she would probably have a hard time, _literally_ , of explaining it. Max also knew she's bad at making excuses, she was a terrible liar, the girl could see right through her if she even tried, split seconds into the attempt and Rachel would be shooting it down. _As if she can see right through the fucking trauma_.

But the dirty blonde teased her about it once, maybe twice, or thrice in different situations of what a weird quirk it was.

That and her constant scolds of the irresponsible habit she has of eating magic brownies.

Max never pegged Rachel to be so strung up about this, she and Chloe were constant users of joint anyway. And the used-to-be joint-user-but-not-so-much anymore reasoned with her heart to heart that it was getting out of hand.

And fucking hell the habit even got annoying for her when it reached up hastily, attempting to rewound in order to backpedal the conversation, to pick her words right in order to avoid the sudden change of atmosphere and unwanted counseling.

So when Rachel gave her yet of another high five, it dawned on her.

Max just knew it, out of defense, a mechanism she also knew and have hated ever since she got the power.

Caulfield, from the pit of her stomach, that had always left a bad taste on her tongue every time she is reminded of the surreal habit, that she knew it was of something caused and was meant by one thing only that she couldn't seem to muster up the courage to admit to herself. Out of all things that had driven her helpless, restless, almost mad, besides the passing of her beloved best friend, is that she couldn't seem to be open any more of the decisions she's making from all of the limited choices she knows she is exposed to.

She was utterly afraid.

Her whole being was in dread of the determination of her consciousness. The thought of having to face the consequences of her decisions and just accepting it became unbelievably absurd for her.

After hundreds and countless of times and moments of going back a second, minute or an hour or day even to just change her decisions for its effects are that of a result that is convenient to the circumstances of her surroundings, her definition of what is a 'must' and 'should be' got manipulated along with the other realities she's intruded and had troubled. This reasoning enabled her mind to malfunction and shut down, to the point her hand would just shoot up as if it was an automatic response to a situation she knows she is vulnerable to; and that is of helpless defiance to be defeated by fate.

All these repetitions, of going back and forth, not wanting to face the undesirable consequences of her decisions, have caused her crippling denial. And within that ocean of uncertainty, her vulnerability was pulling her down the depths of her darkest fears, attempting to drown her of her errors. In this vulnerable state of hers, she knew of it as wanting to take a moment, (literally), to take it into her own hands again, wanting to believe she could have control over her decisions, for once a decision that she wasn't insecure of, a decision that she could just fucking face.

That she knows at the back of her mind, at a timeline, at a reality that she was in, before all of this happened, she didn't have to think every second of how her, simply making choice shouldn't pull a random storm of out nowhere.

Of how her, simply making a choice wouldn't cause somebody to fall off a building;

of how her, simply making a choice, wouldn't put her rival in danger just because she cared;

of how her, simply making a choice, wouldn't have a boy being framed of killing himself;

of how her, simply making a choice, wouldn't break her friend's heart then die at a storm;

of how her, simply making a choice, wouldn't tear a town apart just because she loved.

And of how her, simply making a choice, wouldn't cause a trail of blood and dead bodies behind every decision she makes; of how her, simply making a choice, wouldn't cause her a prelude to such madness in an attempt to fix her mistakes, her wrongdoings, of her cycle of sins.

That of her, when she simply makes a choice, she wouldn't worry about it as being connected to strings and webs of endless possibilities.

Without the burden lingering in her mind, that she could've just changed things one last time, for the benefit of everyone, for the greater good- using it to her advantage to manipulate everything in order to make things 'better'. But she couldn't, she isn't a god, to begin with. And now, that she's stripped off of this gift that made her feel like one, she felt like that she was stripped off of one of the essences of being a human:

Free of her will.

But it sounded absurd, knowing that her life is threaded by fucking fate in numerous and of a thousand, million dirty ways.

And she didn't know what to do with it anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposedly a part (the Prologue, and yes a really long one) of a Fanfiction I am writing for Life is Strange but decided to post it as one-shot instead.
> 
> Maybe I'll decide to post/write the other chapters later or never if life doesn't permit it.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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